


Life isn't quite like a romance novel, it seems.

by orphan_account



Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Not Beta Read, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-22 06:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19661608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Things weren't supposed to go this way, but, hey, they worked out in the end, didn't they?





	Life isn't quite like a romance novel, it seems.

**Author's Note:**

> Taking a break from my longer wip for this!
> 
> This is not edited, of course, for I am a complete dumbass!
> 
> Edit: did the wrong tag! Sorry if y’all thought there would be deathery afoot! That’s my next fic!

_It is supposed to go like this:_

Pat swings by Brian’s desk with a red face and his hands firmly behind his back. 

“Brian David Gilbert,” he says, voice carrying the strength of a thousand men. “you’re extremely attractive. I am also gay. Would you like to go to dinner with me tonight after work?”

Brian gasps and puts a hand to his heart, swooning just a bit. “Why, Patrick, did you even need to ask?”

“Apparently not,” Pat says. From behind his back, he pulls out a perfectly-wrapped bouquet of pink roses and holds them out, bowing his head reverently. “These are for you, my dearest.”

“Hell yeah!” Brian cheers, taking the flowers and placing them gently on his desk next to his five dictionaries and three cookbooks.

_But here’s how it actually goes:_

Brian wakes up to a series of texts from Pat, and it takes him until he’s working his way through his oatmeal to actually read them.

> **(12:32 a.m.)** im gay
> 
> **(12:34 a.m.)** oh shit ignore that
> 
> **(12:34 a.m.)** im not gay
> 
> **(12:35 a.m.)** not that gay people arent cool bc they are!!!1
> 
> **(12:35 a.m.)** like youre cool and simone’s cool and lik eyou know??
> 
> **(12:36 a.m.)** shit you aren’t gay sorry
> 
> **(12:36 a.m.)** i should stop texting you your’e sleeping fuck
> 
> **(12:37 a.m.)** sorry
> 
> **(1:06 a.m.)** fuck it im gay 
> 
> **(2:13 a.m.)** if youre also gay can we 
> 
> **(2:13 a.m.)** like
> 
> **(2:13 a.m.)** go get pizza? sometime? 
> 
> **(2:42 a.m.)** fuck sorry just like ignore that. sorry

Brian smiles and puts his spoon down, texts him back:

> **(8:31 a.m.)** hell yeah pat let’s do this thing

**_________**

_Their first date is supposed to go like this:_

Brian chooses the park because he hasn’t gotten to explore it yet and Pat seems willing to go along with everything Brian suggests. So that leads to him grabbing a picnic basket and filling it with little ham sandwiches he cut into hearts and Sangria and Pop Rocks, stealing a blanket from Laura, and setting up underneath a willow tree by the edge of a river he didn’t even know was in the park. The sun is gently beginning to set over the picturesque skyline, and, as the moon begins to rise, there isn’t a cloud in sight.

Pat brings some seeds for the ducks and throws some out when the ducks look at the sandwiches hungrily. Brian laughs and puts his head on Pat’s shoulder, their hands brushing, not quite being held but not quite apart, either.

Pat looks down at Brian and smiles. “You’re gorgeous.”

Brian winks and scoots closer, lifting his head slightly. “Look who’s talking.”

And Pat blushes and takes a bite out of his sandwich, tosses a handful of seeds to the ducks, and holds Brian’s hand as they walk back to the car.

_But here’s how it actually goes:_

It’s cold and it’s rainy and they should absolutely not be outside, but the pizza place they were supposed to be going to for dinner is apparently closed for good and the subway station is five blocks away. It wasn’t supposed to rain until tomorrow, but of fucking course it is, because God hates the gays. 

Pat’s trying to be helpful, saying something about how there’s a Thai place on the way to the station he’s been meaning to check out, but Brian isn’t listening. He can’t hear him over the chattering of his teeth, honestly, it’s so fucking cold and gross and his hair’s going to be a mess and, even though he knows Pat won’t care, he still needs to look not like a homeless man.

Pat bumps Brian’s shoulder with his own, frowning a little. “You good?”

“Great,” Brian replies, smiling a bit, because this is still fucking amazing, even if they aren’t getting pizza. Because maybe he’s been building himself up to this for, like, forever, him and Pat Gill going on an actual, romantic date. “Just, uh, wet.”

Pat winces and dips his head. “Yeah, sorry. I was sure-”

Brian cuts in. “No, Pat, it’s fine! Really! I…” He swallows something he can’t really understand in his throat and smiles wider, more genuinely, his hand searching for Pat’s. When they find each other, he squeezes it once and drops it away. “I’d be fine doing whatever, honestly.”

Pat stares down at their hands and grabs Brian’s again, intertwining their fingers and giving a hesitant squeeze of his own. When Brian doesn’t pull away, Pat smiles as much as he ever does and pulls Brian closer to his side. 

“So Thai’s good?” he asks.

Brian nods. “Thai’s great. Next time’ll be pizza.”

And Pat blinks at him like he never even considered there’d be a next time, and it maybe breaks Brian’s heart a little, because he kinda knows what happened to Pat’s last relationship and Brian’s too fucking empathetic for his own good. 

“Awesome,” Pat says, smiles, bounces a bit as he walks, and it’s maybe the cutest thing Brian’s ever seen in his entire goddamn life. 

As they stumble into the Thai place half-drenched and giggling at each other like the idiots they are after too long of a conversation about whether Waluigi’s foreskin would be the same color as the bags under his eyes, Brian can’t stop smiling, and Pat can’t stop smiling, and the server just smiles the plastic smile of a broke college student as she seats them at a table by the kitchen and goes to grab the menus she forgot to give them.

“I’m just saying,” Pat says. “saggy eyes, saggy dick-”

Brian barks out a laugh, shaking his head. “There’s no way in hell Waluigi’s dick is saggy, Patrick.”

“That man has not gotten it up in seventeen years at least, Brian.”

“Who says his dick isn’t bony?”

“Okay, how many bones are in his dick?”

Brian taps his chin, tilting his head in thought. “Eighty, at least.”

Pat blinks. “So you’re telling me Waluigi has an entire skeleton in his penis.”

Brian gets stopped mid-dick explanation by the waitress coming back with the menus and apologetic mints, and he politely decides not to bother the poor woman with dick-talk. 

By the time Pat’s dropping Brian off at his apartment, they’re mostly dry and mostly done arguing about Waluigi’s perfectly-tanned, adequately-boneless dick.

**_________**

_Their first kiss is supposed to go like this:_

Brian scoots closer to Pat, rickety ferris wheel be damned. Pat looks down at him, awestruck, smiling slightly as he raises a hand to brush some of Brian’s hair out of his face. But Brian catches his wrist and steals his hand long enough to brush his lips across his knuckles. 

“I could kiss you right now,” Pat says, voice a low rumble compared to usual, looking absolutely gorgeous in the rose gold sunset. He loops an arm around Brian’s waist and tugs him even closer until their faces are only inches apart. 

Brian looks up at him through his eyelashes, smiling softly and very sensually. 

“Then do it,” he says, breath ghosting over Pat’s lips, the very words almost palpable in the air. 

And Pat smiles and ducks his head and kisses him, both of their faces slotting together perfectly. Brian closes his eyes and smiles into it, tilts his head back so that Pat doesn’t break any of his old man neck bones doing this. 

Fireworks go off above them, and, when Brian opens his eyes to look this beautiful man in the face, Pat’s face is tinted pink from the literal sparks flying above them.

_But here’s how it actually goes:_

Just as the end credits roll, Brian turns his head to ask Pat if they’re going to bother with _The Two Towers_ tonight or if that’s saved for next time, but he’s interrupted by Pat’s literal, actual lips pressing against his, chapped and gross, and Pat’s literal, actual nose banging into his because it’s big and beautiful and definitely in the way. Their glasses smack against each other. Brian makes a little surprised-pleased sound and moves to adjust himself so that his face isn’t being entirely broken, but Pat just jerks away and scoots away to the end of the couch looking like a kicked, scared puppy.

“Sorry!” Pat says, wincing and curling in on himself, his voice cracking with...something. “I...should’ve asked. Before I…”

Brian cuts in, “No, Pat, it’s fine! I, uh. I was into it!”

“Really?” Pat asks, blinking a few times. He scoots closer, leaning forward onto his knees with his head tilted just so. “You aren’t, uh, you’re being serious?”

“‘Course I am, Patrick,” Brian grins. He reaches out and takes both of Pat’s hands in his own, squeezes them assuringly. “And I’d like to do it again. When you’re comfortab-”

And then Pat’s kissing him again, this time minding their noses and glasses, keeping his head tilted, and it’s somehow warmer this time, the salt of Pat’s chips biting Brian’s lips in a way that keeps him needing _more more more_. 

They pull away after too short of a time, Brian immediately dipping back in for more and Pat obliging with a laugh that cuts off when Brian tips them both over onto the couch until Pat’s on his back and Brian’s looming over him as sweetly as a grown man can loom. 

Brian lets go of Pat’s hands and moves his own to thread through Pat’s hair, definitely noting the way Pat fucking _melts_. A surprise tool to help them later. He’s the one to end it this time, pulling his head up with a wide, red-mouthed grin that Pat’s mirroring. 

“Holy shit,” Pat breathes. He loops an arm around Brian’s back and pulls him closer to his body. 

“Yeah,” Brian nods. 

And then they’re kissing again, and Brian thinks that he’s going to marry this man someday.

**_________**

_Their first time sharing a bed is supposed to go a little something like this:_

“Oh, Brian, would you care to stay with me tonight?” Pat asks, bowing just a bit, his hair falling into his face as he looks up at Brian longingly.

Brian, who is at Pat’s dinner table working his way through a gallon tub of chocolate ice cream like a badass, smiles widely. 

“Of course,” he says, standing and going over to Pat, who stares up at Brian’s face with eyes full of love. He caresses Pat’s cheek gently, leaning in close. “I get the left side.”

Pat quite literally sweeps Brian off his feet and carries him bridal-style into the bedroom, where they spend the night passionately making out and also cuddling lots.

_But here’s how it actually goes:_

As Link falls to yet another bokoblin, Pat lets his head drop against the back of the couch with a yawn. Brian, who’s already half-asleep by this point, checks his phone. He groans and slides it back in his pocket.

“I should prob’ly be getting home,” he mumbles, already tucking himself back under Pat’s arm. 

“Wanna stay?” Pat asks. 

And Brian, who unfortunately can’t muster anything as romantic as he’d normally say, settles for a simple grumble of a yes and lets himself get half-dragged along to the bedroom, where he promptly falls onto the bed and passes out before Pat can even get his pants off. 

So. Not quite as romantic as he’d hoped. But it’s fine, it’s fine, there’ll be plenty more chances for more romantic bullshit in the future. That is, if Patrick Gill doesn’t smother Brian first. 

Apparently, despite being a prickly motherfucker in the light of day, Pat Gill is a cuddler of the worst kind at night. Definitely no Fujin. By the time Brian wakes up and tries to slip out of bed long enough to strip down to his boxers and undershirt, Pat’s flopped completely on top of him, one leg between both of Brian’s and his face snuggled into the side of Brian’s neck and one hand pressed between the small of Brian’s back and the bed and the other pinning one of Brian’s wrists to the bed. Brian doesn’t even remember getting onto his back; he was curled into a ball on his side with the full knowledge that he’d probably have to get up at some point and change out of his slacks and shirt before they got wrinkled beyond all hope. 

He’s beyond hope. Because when he tries to lightly nudge Pat off, all Pat does is grunt and somehow snuggle closer, his hair falling out of its loose ponytail and brushing against Brian’s cheek so lightly it tickles. And he can’t even move his arms to brush it away. Can barely even breathe properly, honestly, it’s so fucking hot in this bedroom in such close proximity in what’s basically a suit. If they weren’t so goshdang gay, this would be homophobia in the highest sense of the word. 

Brian manages to pull an arm out from where it was pinned under Pat’s chest and flops it across Pat’s bare back (oh, God _almighty_ , he’s _shirtless_ , this is how Brian dies for certain). Pat’s breath is warm against his skin, and it would be pure bliss if it wasn’t hotter than Hades in the room. 

He pokes Pat’s side gently. “Pat. Patrick. I can’t breathe.”

Pat grunts and curls in a bit, back hunching, his grip on Brian’s shirt and wrist tightening. 

“I want to take my shirt off,” Brian says, and that gets Pat rolling off of him, the horndog he is. 

Brian slides out of bed and winces as the familiar prickles of sleep hit his feet, and he unbuttons his shirt as quickly as he can with only one hand (the other is numb and slowly beginning to twitch its way awake). His shirt drops to the floor, and his pants follow, and then he’s immediately pulled back onto the bed by his very grabby, very out of it boyfriend. 

Pat lets him stay on his side this time, instead choosing to sling an arm over Brian’s waist and pull until he can comfortably bury his face in the hair on the back of Brian’s neck. He’s back asleep within seconds, and Brian’s going to follow him as soon as the pricks and twitches end and he can feel everything properly.

**_________**

_It’s supposed to go like this:_

After a long couple hours of love-making and copious amounts of cuddling, Brian nuzzles his face into the crook of Pat’s bare shoulder, tracing his fingers down his back in a figure eight. Soft moonlight filters its way through the curtains, lighting up the bed perfectly. 

“I love you,” Pat murmurs, breath warm and words hot against the back of Brian’s head. 

“I love you, too,” Brian whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to Pat’s skin, following it up with a quick nip because why the fuck not? 

As they lay in each other’s warmth, neither willing to move for fear of losing the other despite fully knowing nothing will happen, Brian murmurs sweet nothing into his love’s ear that Pat, of course, returns.

_But here’s how it actually goes:_

Pat comes back from the corner store with a box of tissues, a mini-bottle of hand sanitizer, and a bag of cough drops, all of which he deposits on Brian’s desk without a second thought or a single word. 

Brian blearily looks from the items up at his face, then back down at the items, then back up at his face, then sneezes so hard his headphones fall off his head and his thermos of lemon tea almost falls off his desk. Almost. 

“You didn’t have to,” he says, voice sounding just as snotty and gross as he feels.

Pat shrugs with one shoulder, smiles softly, a hint of a blush on his cheeks. “I mean, I’m the one who got you sick. So…”

“And you’re my extremely-caring and beautiful boyfriend?”

“That, too, I guess,” Pat says. He grins as Brian weakly swats at him.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Brian sniffs. He rips open the box of tissues and is halfway through blowing his nose when he realizes what he just fucking said in front of literally everybody and while looking like the backside of a dead horse. “Shit.”

Pat looks like he just met God, smiling wider than Brian’s ever seen him and bouncing a bit in place. “Love you too, Bri.”

And at least that fucking makes it better. Because Simone’s lightly honking on the other side of the room, bless her heart for at least trying to be quiet about it, and that means that this is probably already in the Slack, and that means that this is going to be told at his and Pat’s wedding in like five years when everyone but Simone will have forgotten it, including Brian. 

And so he cries a bit, grabbing another tissue to wipe his eyes with before Simone can even catch a glimpse of him, and Pat’s looking more concerned than he should considering he knows how stupid emotional Brian gets when his entire body is on oh-fuck-let’s-not-die-fuck-thinking duty. 

“I’m...sorry?” Pat offers. 

“Fuck _off_!” Brian groans, absently smacking his dumbass boyfriend’s hip. “God, I love you.”

Pat blinks once, twice, and his smile twists into something that Brian can’t figure out while almost completely braindead. He grabs Brian’s hand on its way back to the desk and swings it between them. “I love you, too. Really.”

“I know,” Brian says. He coughs hard enough to leave his ears ringing and winces. “Sorry. We should try again later.”

“If you’re sure,” Pat says. He can’t see Simone typing on her phone furiously, a wickedly-sweet smile on her face, but Brian can, and he just sighs and hangs his head with a light sniffle. “I’m gonna go work now. Don’t die.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Brian dryly says. 

Pat chuckles and lets go of Brian’s hand with one final squeeze, and, five seconds later as Brian downs half a thermos of tea in one breath, his phone lights up with an entire essay from Simone dictating how fucking adorable that all was and how she had better be best man at the wedding (Jonah is definitely going to be the best man, or Patrick. Simone can be, like, Pat’s best man. Or something. Wedding gremlin, probably). 

Brian texts back that she can be the stripper at his bachelor party, and her laughter fills the room.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: [asorrywrite](https://asorrywrite.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Prompts are always open there, and so are asks, because I thrive off of attention (you'll never guess my policy on comments/kudos, lovelies).
> 
> Other than that, take a breather, friends. Drink some water. Eat some Goldfish crackers because they are God's only gift to this planet. Make sure your house isn't actually a snail in disguise, happens to the best of us.
> 
> And stay lovely, kids.


End file.
